The sun had smiled down on you, But not kindly.It burned your face with a hard fire, as you worked outside all day.It left it's mark,A scorching red that ran from your neck up to your forehead.As I imagine an eskimo out in the Artic, their nose irritated and frost bitten with the cold.You work tirelessly every day, you where your wounds without shame.I wish everyone did that.I wish everyone excepted eachother's differences, instead stead of freting over their neighbors imperfections.But it isn't enough to wish...In a night without stars.